


Imagine

by shitkai



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Anal Sex, Coming Untouched, Did I Mention Shuichi Is Like... Really Horny?, Kissing, M/M, No Spoilers, Shuichi is horny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-11-22 21:25:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18142103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shitkai/pseuds/shitkai
Summary: There, in his dreams, the feeling manifests itself into Kaito, all long limbs and broad shoulders. There, Kaito gives a firm squeeze at Saihara’s shoulders and glances over him. The wanton swells in Saihara’s throat and claws at his tonsils to the point where speaking is impossible. He wonders if he looks like a deranged pervert here too.





	1. The Feeling

It starts slow. A feeling that’s warm and gentle as it manifests; it’s tendrils long as it encapsulates Saihara’s body. It’s slow, and so inconspicuous that Saihara nary drew pride from his ability to ignore it.

It’s alive, though, and with all living things, it grows.

Saihara finds himself looking away mid-conversation, his mind elsewhere as he daydreams. It’s unbecoming of him—- as a detective. For someone like Saihara, who hangs on each and every word and is drawn to the prospect of anything new and thought invoking… to space out so often… it’s against his nature.

Saihara admonishes the feeling by willing it away and fervently pushing it down. He’s catching himself in his thoughts a little too late though, feigning intrigue with too much tenacity to even look remotely genuine.

Kaito pauses around his sentence, the silence lingering for the heartbeat of a second that feels like 12 with the way Saihara’s pulse kickstarts. Kaito’s eyes all but slide over him in lazy acknowledgement, unsearching. The feeling is tangible in his chest then, big and heavy and hot; and Saihara wants to rip it all out and show Kaito. He thinks he’s a bit crazy for it.

Unaware, Kaito keeps speaking.

There’s a breath of a moment when they’re training at night, and Maki pulls Saihara to the side, unpretubed by how freaked out it makes him. That same once over Kaito had given him, although more astute, her hand warm even through the fabric of Saihara’s white collared shirt. “Stop looking like that.”

She isn’t looking at Saihara when she says it, but she punctuates herself by doing so afterwards. Her red eyes burn,”You look like some deranged pervert.”

Saihara opens his mouth, and closes it, warm acceptance gracing him with a flush. He remembers one of Kaito’s speeches about being a man, and he looks Maki in the eyes with expedient indifference despite the color in his cheeks. She squints challengingly, squeezing Saihara’s shoulder; and his resolve falters, his eyes going to the ground.

“I’m going. Confess to him or I’ll hit you.”

The threat holds no bite, only exasperation, and it’s all the more demeaning like that.

When Saihara shows up with one less warm body than before, Kaito doesn’t acknowledge it. There’s a brief moment where he doesn’t even acknowledge him at all. Kaito probably couldn’t hear Saihara approach, probably didn’t see him either.

Instead of bringing himself closer, Saihara stands there absolutely mistified. With that gaudy purple jacket disgaurded, Saihara can trace the outlines of his firm muscles. He can see the way the sleeves of Kaito’s shirt catch on his biceps, accommodating to the stretch of wide shoulders. Saihara wants a hug, or two; knows that Kaito would gladly give him one.

Kaito looks at him, and the moments Saihara had been staring feel all too fleeting. He ungraciously approaches Kaito, palming down his white shirt in an attempt to straighten his appearance.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” Saihara mirrors dumbly.

Kaito glances over Saihara’s frame, before staring away at nothing in particular,”S’just me and my sidekick now, huh?” His voice is fond, jest at the edge of his words despite the fact that he knows Maki left without saying anything.

Saihara makes a face, and Kaito turns back at the silence, smiling when he sees it,“What, you wanna call it a night too?”

“Ah, t-that’s not,” Saihara’s voice wavers uncomfortably, and he breathes in through his nose,”I…… wanted to talk to you.”

Saihara makes himself comfortable next to Kaito, not looking at him. “That’s great you know!?” Kaito jostles Saihara with an elbow, and the heat from where their bodies connect doesn’t ever stop burning,”You’ve been super out of it lately, I thought I’d have to punch you again…!”

Saihara breathes through his nose gently, rubbing his arm where they touched as if pacifying the hurt of a wound. “I guess,” is his quiet response.

Kaito gives him another indefinite encouraging speech that emphasizes effusive masculinity and pride in oneself. It’s Kaito, so Saihara blanks out for most of it, but towards the end, Kaito places his hand on one of Saihara’s shoulder blades. His fingers feel long and thick, and his thumb burns when it swipes over Saihara’s nape.

The whole world centers in on them, but Maki’s voice rings loud in his head, _”You look like some deranged pervert.”_

He wonders if it shows during the seconds his skin feels bare and hot where Kaito touches. Saihara wants to keep him here, wants to lock Kaito away like a physical memory of everything righteous and good. Like a light that Saihara doesn’t want anyone else to get close to.

Kaito pats him one good time and leaves. _I never got to tell him,_ he thinks.

 

Saihara is mild-mannered and meek, but forthright and determined. He’s scared of every worst possible outcome, but it doesn’t deter him from his goal. Kaito is so excruciatingly tangible, and the feeling has grown so large that Saihara doesn’t have any choice but to face it. He looks it in the eyes in his sleep.

There, in his dreams, the feeling manifests itself into Kaito, all long limbs and broad shoulders. There, Kaito gives a firm squeeze at Saihara’s shoulders and glances over him. The wanton swells in Saihara’s throat and claws at his tonsils to the point where speaking is impossible. He wonders if he looks like a deranged pervert here too.

When Saihara wakes up, his breath is heavy in his chest, unable to come up out of his throat with the coal sized lump there. The feeling, once small and sweet, is now icky and dark and overtly ubiquitous. It’s inescapable, indescribable, and it’s always fixated on Kaito.

 _Kaito…_ Saihara lets his eyes flutter closed as he cums into his hand, rubbing himself weakly through the throes of his orgasm.

And the yearning doesn’t stop. It gets worse.

The next body discovery and the investigation that ensues comes and goes in an awkward blur. Ouma is being insanely irritating, but that isn’t new. Saihara takes it in stride.

Kaito, however, does not.

The anger in his voice is evident. Saihara can see it in the way Kaito stands, the way his eyes burn a sweltering violet and he sweats from the fury of being vexed up to the point of boiling over.  
  
“Hey, Momota-Kun.”

Saihara gives a flat smile, resting a hand to Kaito’s shoulder in that empathetic gesture he’d demonstrated too many times for Saihara to get wrong. Still, there’s a feeling of incompetence. Saihara’s hand isn’t heavy enough, isn’t warm enough—- but, _oh,_ Kaito looks at him like it’s just what he needed.

He looks at Saihara like he’s everything, like he’s keeping him down to earth with one steady hand and reassuring gaze.

“Thanks.” Kaito breathes out though his nose, resting his palm on Saihara’s shoulder too. Saihara has hot flashes of being ripped apart by those hands. Torn into and used, whisked away by the plasmatic heat in those eyes.

 _“Yeah.”_ Saihara chokes.

Maki hits him later.


	2. The Action

It’s like eleven years pass when Kaito and Saihara are alone again.

It’s after the trial, and dread is heavy on Saihara’s chest when it’s over. This never really gets easier, accepting the murder of a friend, and convicting another for it.

Kaito’s looking into space while they walk together to their dorms. Saihara’s suddenly so aware of the tension in the air, that it almost feels as though it’s choking him. Kaito looks at him, and Saihara’s head throbs dully with a slow roll of pain.

“Good job…” Kaito says, a little too quiet,”though I didn’t expect much else from the sidekick of me, Kaito Momota! Luminary of the stars!”

Saihara smiles without the glare of his teeth, his lips curling from genuine fondness. Then,”Thank you.”

Kaito’s sweet, but it doesn’t do much to absolve the tension around them. Saihara thinks his sprits will only be lifted when he’s filled to the brim with Kaito, being stuffed and fucked and kissed. His head throbs again.

“Can I hang out with you for awhile?”

Kaito’s proposition feels like a dream. So much so that Saihara can vividly imagine being held in those arms and having the life squeezed out of him. The thought almost sates the icky black feeling in his chest, but Saihara remembers the nature of Kaito. He knows that being alone with him won’t warrant… what he’s been dreaming about these past few weeks; and part of Saihara, the rational and selfless side of him at least, wishes it wouldn’t.

There isn’t much he can think to do with his mouth or his hands or his body in general, that could ever make the burning star Kaito Momota go out; but there’s that fear that this prevalent light will go dim if Saihara so much as touches it.

Still, Saihara wants to be freed from this feeling. He wants to ease his mind of the day and their situation. He wants to find solace in Kaito’s body, and give Kaito a semblance of the warmth he dishes out daily.

Because it takes so long for Saihara to answer, Kaito speaks up. ”I…I know I was insisting on leaving because I said I was tired as hell, but, you know,” Kaito seems flustered, his cheeks going a bit warm,”I’m so bummed out, dunno if I’ll be able to really sleep like that… and you’re always cheering me up, so…”

He shrugs, looking small like a distant star in the sky,”I wanted to try being selfish.”

Saihara knows if their positions had been switched, he’d be apologizing profusely, dropping his offer all-together in the midst of his penitence. This is Kaito, though, who scolds Saihara and Gonta alike for always faltering even as men—- for always apologizing for what they think and what they want. Saihara’s head suddenly feels clear.

“It’s fine.” He says, and his voice doesn’t shake,”I wanted to spend time with you too.”

 

His room doesn’t feel particularly empty. Though, having Kaito here, with heat emanating off of him from all directions; with his body filling the vacancy Saihara had never even known was there… he knows it will feel empty when Kaito eventually leaves.

Saihara pats down his pant-clad thighs, wishing Kaito would sit somewhere so Saihara could at least cherish the memory of his presence and rub himself off wherever the other had been. He’s so dirty, he knows it.

His lascivious thoughts echo in his mind so loud, that when Kaito looks at him, he’s sure he can hear them.

 _He’s smiling,_ his mind barks at him, and panic hits Saihara for the seconds he wavers, _Smile Back._

Wryly, Saihara smiles at Kaito, all teeth and awkward nervousness.

“Thanks,” Kaito says, laughing and waving Saihara off. Saihara’s smile wobbles, and he breathes in deep,”Huh… I didn’t do anything though …”

Kaito’s looking away from him, and since he’d stripped that jacket and let it rest on a desolate chair, Saihara can see his back almost perfectly. Although obfuscated through his two shirts, Saihara sees the way his shoulder blades pull together and apart when he rolls his shoulders. “Nah.” He’s waving Saihara off again,”I was just thinkin’ about how much better I feel already, just being here with you.”

He turns his head first, giving Saihara a side glimpse of that smirk. Then he turns his body around fully, approaching Saihara and watching his heart stop in real time.

Kaito does nothing but sit next to Saihara on the edge of the bed; and yet, Saihara’s tracing the outline of his figure with his eyes, mentally imprinting exactly where Kaito let himself be in his brain.

 _I have to tell him,_ Saihara thinks, and he inhales, shifting apprehensively. “Kaito.” He makes sure to say his name and not ask it, his resolve solidifying in his chest at the power his voice educes. _Yes,_ he thinks,”I have to talk to you about something.”

Silence ensues, and Saihara can physically feel Kaito staring at him. “Shoot,” he says simply.

Saihara opens his mouth to speak, but nothing feels right. “I…” he starts, and the word tastes bad, so he stops. _“I’m…”_

It sounds dreadful and feels all the more humiliating. Saihara’s confidence, it’s like it spreads wings and flies away. His tongue feels like lead in his mouth, a useless thing as he stares in to the black space surrounding him.

The feeling eats at Saihara from the inside out, encapsulating his lungs first, and seizing his breath…

…Then Kaito’s hand is on Saihara’s thigh.

Kaito is beautiful and bright where he sits, and strong where his heavy hand lies. It’s as though the feeling that itched to be freed for so long, gives vindictive scratches at Saihara’s throat on the way up. It crawls out of his mouth like vomit, drawn to Kaito like moth to a flame.

In the next instant, he’s on top of the other, panting harshly. “Momota-Kun… you…” Saihara’s breathing to make up for all the time his lungs were stifled,”It’s you.”

Kaito blinks up at Saihara, stupefied. His expression is nauseatingly ambiguous, and it’s breaking Saihara _down._ He won’t apologize now, he won’t, he’s a man; and men are allowed this… desire.

“Shuichi,” Kaito smiles as though it’s all he _can_ do,”I kinda suspected you liked someone, but I didn’t know…” He shuts himself up fast.

Shuichi’s eyes lid, and Kaito looks viciously stricken by it. “Momota-Kun, don’t deny me…” a command dressed as an indicative plea. Saihara really feels hot, like he’s been bathing in this light too long and he’ll burn to ashes immediately.

As if sealing a pact, Kaito leans up to kiss him.

It would be inadequate and cliché to compare the burst of light behind Saihara’s eyelids to stars. More like, fire crackers that set off in the pit of his stomach and explode in his head. His brain… it’s in the skies, miles away from his body; and it’s amazing that it still functions when Kaito swipes a tongue across Saihara’s bottom lip. The wetness gets caught in the corner of his mouth, and Saihara parts his lips greedily, accepting Kaito’s rough tongue and toothed kiss.

It’s not a necessarily good kiss by any means, but it’s Kaito. The fireworks are erupting one after another, and Saihara’s moving fervently, wanting to kiss and touch and devour Kaito all at once. Needless to say, the kiss bordering on unpleasant is mostly his fault.

Kaito grabs Saihara by his upper arms, seizing him and pulling him away. Saihara’s too dazed to control the way his head lolls back, eyes rolling up and being lost behind his eyelids as he shudders and cums hard in his pants. He’s straddling Kaito’s abs, knees pulled together as he writhes abnormally.

All of the heat goes to his brain, blood pooling in his face to the point of almost inducing a nose bleed. He can’t breathe, can’t say anything but Kaito’s name.

“ _O-Oh_ Momota-Kun…” he drawls, sounding blissed out and looking sick with the way he sweats and pants. That tinny voice is drawn higher, and Saihara doesn’t care how it shakes this time.

It takes a few seconds, that feel like hours, for Saihara to calm down. The fear grips him deep somewhere in his guts; when he glances down, Kaito looks like he’s been slapped, and Saihara mirrors his petrified expression, now self aware.

“Shu…” Warm shock blossoms across Kaito’s features in the form of a flush, deep purple eyes dilated. “You’ve been real wound up, huh?”

Saihara lifts his head, the strain in his neck numbing him from his shoulders upwards. He nods, and Kaito can see how Saihara’s dark lip-tint is smeared across his mouth. How his lashes flutter closed and he breathes slow.

Saihara looks like Kaito just rocked his world, and he feels pride and arousal swim through him at the same time.

“I’ve been wanting this.” Saihara confesses airily, letting his palm rest right above Kaito’s navel and in between his own spreading legs. Saihara pushes himself back and stifles a keen at the bulge he feels there. “Momota-Kun.”

Saihara’s voice is light and feminine, and he looks pale and ethereal. His lithe frame suddenly feels very heavy where it centers itself on Kaito’s cock. He groans, hips bucking upwards as he chases the weight of Saihara and the friction between their bodies.

Saihara coos, a shy smile adorning his blushing face. Then he starts stripping himself, and Kaito’s mind goes blank for a second.

“Momota-Kun,” Saihara’s voice brings him back down to earth, pulling him like gravity,”get up.”

His voice is firm, and Kaito sits up on his forearms obediently, watching like a hawk as Saihara unseats himself and stands.

There’s a hairbreadth of a moment where Saihara looks unsure and reluctant, but that look in his eyes dissipates the moment he’s stripped down. “You too…” Saihara says quietly, impenetrable longing behind his gaze,”Undress.”

And Kaito does.

Though, his hands halt apprehensively over his underwear. Saihara gawks at him, looking like a waiter had come with his meal and passed him to serve another table. His grey-green eyes flicker from Kaito’s hands, up to his face; and he presses forward with a step, trembling uncontrollably as he stops himself. His restraint to rip Kaito’s clothes off himself is physical. Kaito can see Saihara’s fingers flex subconsciously, the longing in him turning into something visceral.

When they’re both naked and pressed flush against each other, Kaito speaks. “You’re so beautiful, Shuichi.” He sounds stupid and sexy and Saihara wants to tear himself apart right now just to prove him wrong.

“I’ve thought so, for a—“ Kaito swallows when Saihara wordlessly uncaps a lubricant bottle, lathering his fingers generously,” _ah_ —- I’ve thought so for awhile…”

Saihara reaches that hand back with a thoughtless stare, and Kaito presses on. “You’re such a good sidekick… man, I always thought you were trying to catch up with me, but you outdo yourself all the time…” Kaito’s babbling nonsense as Saihara fits two fingers in himself on the first go. “I really thought I’d be content like that, you know? But I knew you were more than that all along, that you—“

Saihara’s breath hitches when he grazes his prostate, and Kaito pauses around his sentiment. Their eye contact is blistering, and Saihara’s panting again. He knows he looks like a _deranged pervert_ right now, but he couldn’t care less.

The truth is, he wants Kaito to shut up and pound him mercilessly. To break him down and build him up and break him down, and down, _and down_ until he’s nothing but rubble and ruins. He adds a third finger, shakily sighing at the stretch.

Kaito’s silent while he marvels, Saihara Shuichi fucking himself on his fingers and saying his name. “Momota-Kun,” he calls Kaito when the other drifts away,”focus on me, please.”

Kaito complies dumbly, drinking Saihara in as he prepares himself. There’s a brief moment of reprieve when Saihara pulls his fingers out, but he’s grabbing the lube again, eyes sweltering with something new.

A lubed hand affixes itself around the girth of Kaito’s cock, and he moans with the slow tugs that follow suit. _“Oof… Shu…”_ Saihara’s skin is significantly cooler, the small area of his palm feeling lukewarm against his burning flesh.

Saihara lifts himself, holding onto the base of Kaito’s cock as he guides himself down. He’s dreamed of this moment so many times, that Saihara thinks it’s fake all the while it takes to lower himself. The pain is surreal though, thick and firm heat invading his most deepest parts; stretching him wide and punching him deep.

Kaito’s gripping at Saihara’s waist, shallow crescent moons imprinted on his skin where Kaito digs in his blunt nails.

Saihara is so warm. He’s so tight, almost to the point of it being painful, but the way Sahara’s body accepts him hungrily, it makes Kaito’s mind fog over in a lust-induced frenzy. He feels on the verge of death.

 _“Momota-Kun.”_ Saihara’s trembling erratically,”I… I can’t move…”

He flushes deeper with the words, the color staining the tips of his ears and the base of his neck. There’s silence, and Kaito laughs,”Yeah.”

They shift positions a bit haphazardly. Their limbs collide, but Saihara is small enough to throw around easily. He smiles when Kaito has him pinned down, supine against the sheets.

Kaito fills him in one full swoop, and Saihara hums as low as he can, the bass of the sound coming from his throat. Kaito groans too, guttural and dangerously close to Saihara’s ear while he breathes hot all over his face.

 _“Shu…”_ Kaito wrenches out. Saihara’s legs wrap around Kaito to keep him inside and close. “Momota-Kun,” He mirrors, breathlessly.

“Like this,” Kaito huffs through his nose, jolting Saihara with a hard thrust that rattles his ribcage and shakes the air in his lungs,”call me Kaito.”

 _“K-Kaito,”_ Saihara almost cries.

Kaito doesn’t relent. He fucks with as much vigor as his unwavering spirit, he pounds Saihara into a useless coalescence of flesh and bone. He turns him inside out and upside down—- messes Saihara up like he’s being praying he would.

Saihara sounds like he’s being stabbed, and he is, in this lewd and literal way. His screams are jagged and cracked, his soft voice now loud and helpless with each organ-twisting thrust. He thinks he can go mad like this, he wants to see if Kaito will take him there.

Kaito’s an animal, or rather, a storm. His voice is thunderous in Saihara’s ear, clambering the earth that is Saihara’s body. Like a tsunami, Kaito bestows upon Saihara a wave of something disastrous. It’s euphoric, a high that Saihara knows he’ll be addicted to and crave more of tomorrow, _and the day after that… and the day after that…_

Saihara’s twitching weakly through his second orgasm, and Kaito’s still fucking him rough and raw like an object to sate all of his desires. When he comes, Saihara can feel Kaito’s dick throb in him. Saihara feels full, full, _filled_ to the brim with joy and overflowing with love.

He meets Kaito’s low grunt with a quiet purr, his expression heavy with satisfaction,”Thank you…” he says, dazedly, and Kaito feels as though he’s being wrung out dry when Saihara clenches around him _,”Thank you…”_

Kaito unsheathes himself, smiling shyly, and Saihara smiles back, happy to be stuffed to the brim with the memory of his lover. Cum spills out from him, overflowing just barely. If Kaito thinks Saihara won’t get addicted to this, he’s wrong.

“You really are—-“ Kaito stops, and stares at the other with an illegible expression,”Shuichi, _wow_ …”

Saihara allows himself enough discretion to blush, and Kaito thinks he looks absolutely beautiful. Saihara’s raven hair fans out on the pillow, that lip tint still staining his lips a dark plum. His lashes are long and dark with light eyes that search Kaito’s expression one more time, asking, _Is this alright?_

Kaito smiles a bit wider, and Saihara swells, imagining a life with Kaito at the center of his universe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhhhm I just wanted to thank you guys for reading? /// I'm glad some of you have enjoyed up until the end, I really just kinda wrote this to satisfy an itch I had (a vaguely horny, but very, very self indulgent itch). I wasn't expecting so many people to read this, let alone enjoy it for the short amount of time it's been up! I'm really happy, thank you so much!


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